


Just a Piece

by xHonestSecretsx



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Historical, Jealous Simcoe, Jealousy, NSFW, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-11-22 07:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11375853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx
Summary: Reader and Simcoe once shared a relationship with one another. However, once Simcoe moves on for Anna Strong, it occurs to the reader that Simcoe left just a little bit of himself in his wake.





	1. Chapter 1

You supposed he should know. As the father to the child in your womb, he needed to know. Of course you knew he was serious about her: about Anna. That was why when you saw them kissing in the middle of town, your heart skipped a beat. You had dashed across Strong tavern heaving. The way their lips pressed together, the way Simcoe held Anna behind her neck or countered her movements were cemented in your memory. It was unreal. Many people in town knew of your affections for Simcoe and as such you knew how badly this would reflect on you. 

But you didn't care. You missed the days of sliding into his room for kisses dancing from your neck to the delicate valley of your breasts. His movements in bed were always decisive but he took his time in pleasing. And the after sex where you often collapsed on his chest and Simcoe patiently, like a gentleman, waited for you to sleep before he fell asleep on his own. That was all done away with now. Everyone knew of his affections for Anna Strong. You had believed Simcoe was near proposing in the past. Or perhaps that was girlish whims that never came to fruition. 

"Misses (F/N), are you alright?" Came the deep, but somehow gentle voice of the magistrate. You hadn't realized you were hyperventilating so heavily. Your hand had been nearly gripping a wood fence to death where you were slumped against with a protrusion of your belly. You had believed it well hidden under the flow of soft blue fabric. Suddenly, you thought not with the judge's eyes fixated upon the bump. "O-Oh Mr. Woodhull." You balked, looking to Simcoe as he turned away from Anna and placed his hat upon those gingery locks you so admired. "Yes, I... I suppose I tripped." You found an excuse where there was none. Richard frowned in response. As a judge, he was well accustomed to lying. Furthermore he was the first to judge others as well. Yet he had a feeling whom this was about. 

"Is this about Simcoe?" Richard looked over his shoulder to where Simcoe darted up the docks. You gazed as well though for entirely different reasons: Simcoe looked so handsome in that deep green. When Richard looked back, you felt your heart beating in your chest. "Or is this about Anna Strong?" He eluded to moments prior. Anna had already escaped to the tavern. You were left reeling. In no way did you want to admit to him that it was about Anna. It was humiliating to have laid with Simcoe time after time in hopes of a marriage. You didn't want any of the things Simcoe could offer. You wanted the brutish man for whom he was: Simcoe. 

"No... I... Is there somewhere we could talk privately? I owed Mary this lovely gown." You suggested. Today had been intended to be a day of delivering some of the sewed goods you had sold customized to some of the richer sort. You were no where badly off, but not on the top of the social ladder either. Richard would help you up, walking along side you out of the town. He was a just man. The judge would understand. Richard would help you into his carriage. You sat, arranging blue and white fabric around yourself. "Prior to Simcoe's infatuation with Mrs. Strong, he had spent some time courting me," You began, listening to the clop of large horses. "It isn't as if it matters now, but I have fallen with a child," You went on, smiling warmly to the notion. Simcoe had often said 'one day' to the notion of children. How could you go forth if he so desired Anna? Judge Woodhull's eyes had widened as he bore back at you. He noticed the curve of your stomach and suspected a child, but whom was he to call you out?

"A child by Simcoe?" It seemed unbelievable. Not of Simcoe, but of you. "I always suspected you to be infatuated with Baker. Of anyone else. Simcoe is... well, a monster in tactics." The magistrate finished. Of course you knew so. Simcoe was uniquely... Simcoe. In the same token you had always wished to marry before child. Richard leaned back in the carriage, his hand on his chin for a moment as of thinking. "Will he be involved?" Richard asked. Involved was code as to settling down. You knew Simcoe had aspirations of being more than a small town man or a petty officer. You slid to Richard's side, grasping his large hands in your delicate ones. 

"Please don't tell him. I had intentions to do so today..." You left off. Intentions that didn't pan out. What if he shunned you? Richard made an unsettled hum. Your father must not have known if he was not the first to go after Simcoe. That left the matter between Richard and you. However, there would be rumours abound once the town found you with child. Richard sighed. 

"I will wait for your lead."


	2. Chapter 2

The days had passed since Simcoe went to recollect Major Hewlett. During that time you kept your mind busy with balancing your family work with that of sewing for the incoming child. Your family was of middle class, making you not quite the lady with regal gowns. Even so father did purchase you a lovely indigo dress with white lace dripping sleeves at the elbows in an attempt to heal that weeping heart. The delicate touch of lace made you feel feminine in a way that was often disregarded when you worked on feeding animals or harvesting the food of the farm. In a way, you thought Simcoe had disrespected you by not even bothering to tell you he was no longer interested. Instead, he simply dropped off like the warmth for the cold winter nights. With your brother coming in for a visit, Father suggested that you might visit the tavern for some brandy that evening. You were shy to go into town knowing Simcoe would be at that very tavern. A well enough time to gather liquor for the upcoming evening. 

Down in the cellar of the tavern, Anna was fetching you the goods of the evening. “Thank you so much Anna,” You slid the two large bottles of liquor into your bag. Mrs. Strong herself seemed to be battling with words to say as you handed her coin in exchange. How she still managed the business without Selah was amazing to you. There was much responsibility with the bar. You moved to raise the head of the cloak over your long hair. You had arranged your hair yourself into rich curls, many pinned up while others tickled down the bosom of your chest. Anna’s features seemed to contort a little sharply before she blurted out, “(Y/N) wait! I do not love him (Y/N). Surely you must know that.” You gave a confused cock of your head. She seemed to need to justify herself as she continued. “I could not bear to see you think I would betray you in such a way. It was only… Major Hewlett was captured. I couldn’t bare it.” As she said it, you knew she was genuine. It wasn’t your love she wished for… but Mary’s own. You nodded your head, “I know Mrs. Strong, but he loves you.” You gently moved to lightly hug her. Your belly seemed to make the first contact of such a hug before you moved to walk up the stairs without so much as a goodbye. It might not have been her that wanted to betray you, but it was she who he craved. It still burned. You slid out of the tavern and made your way out with a gentle sigh on your lips. It hurt… but you knew that you needed to head home. 

And yet, staring up at the sky, it seemed better to stay here than set for home where father would muse you about a future husband. At twenty four, you both knew that no one was likely to ask for your hand. Especially not when Simcoe had set you with his child. Father had gotten your hopes up. Though, you weren’t sure he should have had them with the new found violent reputation Simcoe was gaining. Before long, beads of tears dripped down your cheeks to the cleavage of your chest. “Miss (L/N)? You seem hurt.” The amicable voice the Major teased your ear. Yet why was he down here? If everything he was summed up to being upon that hill. He dipped down to pick up your bag from the dusty floor, sliding it onto his shoulder. “Oh Major, I’m very sorry.” You apologized while rubbing stray tears from your cheeks. Though for what? Hewlett knew better than that but was it improper to offer his men to take you home by carriage? You lived a way out of town and it was a nasty time of night. “As I said prior, Miss (L/N), has something occurred? There’s much walking and I… I heard of your condition.” He asks again, urging you to face him to where your stomach protruded out of your normally slim figure. You knew that not everyone could tell save those whom looked for it like Major Hewlett. 

“It’s… nothing Mr. Hewlett, feminine woes, I suppose. The… the magistrate told you?” You frowned. Had news spread already? Hewlett softly nodded. It wasn’t as if he was a man to prod. “Yes… you’ve fallen with child. The paternity of the child, however, I could not account for. I was told that was to your discretion to disclose. Regardless, should the father not play a role I am convinced you will find a fitting man to take your hand. You are a maiden, after all.” The notion brought a smile to your lips. It was one thing to hear it from Father but… when it came down to it, it was special to hear it from another man. You laughed warmly, “Maiden hardly, I’m nearly twenty four.” You laughed. Hewlett winced, offering you his arm. 

Hewlett seemed displeased by the notion. His features stiffened before he shook his head, “Now why would you say that?” He noted. You stopped, listening to the delicate whistle of the trees. You wondered if it was safe to disclose this information, but to whom would the Major tell? He was a good man. “Captain Simcoe had been pursuing me for some time… but it seems as though Mrs. Strong peaked his interest,” You explained. Perhaps it was her beautiful figure and brash personality that drew others in. She did belong to the Strong manor after all, that was always attractive as well. Your family farmed much more than hers. Or perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps she was simply more desirable. It came across your mind time and time again. Was she really… just better? Hewlett gave a glance down at you before gazing up to the stars. “Yes… I… am partial to her myself. When the time comes, I am sure you will find the proper man for your affections,” Hewlett brought your knuckles to his lips, laying a soft kiss on each. Yet of course he was partial to her. His actions were merely to make you feel better. You should have had some words for him: any words! And yet, you felt at peace. You rose your head up to the stars: the sky was dark but pattered with brilliant white stars. The milky way danced across the sky. It was all too peaceful until it was shattered. Hewlett rose his eyes to the stars as well, and for a moment, everything felt safe. You wordlessly set your head upon his shoulder to savor the quiet of the evening for as long as it would last.

“Major, I am surprised to find you out of Whitehall. Have you not missed supper?” came another cheeky voice. If Hewlett had brought you a smile, his voice never failed to make your knees weak. Your hand fell to Hewlett’s pale hand, clenching it tightly. “Why Captain Simcoe, I was walking lady (Y/N) home.” Hewlett countered, his composure straightening while you remained quiet with your gaze upon Hewlett. You gingerly slid the bag of alcohol and other necessities off Hewlett’s shoulder, nodding in defense of Hewlett. Hewlett looked down to you, grasping your hand holding the bag. “He was to help me bring these items for my brother’s homecoming, Captain. I am no leading lady, like Miss Strong, but it’s somewhat tiring on me after a day of labor.” You add, looking upon Simcoe’s ever fakely amused smile. Simcoe looked to Hewlett with some manifested awe, his clothing tight on his chest. “I can take it from here, Hewlett, a soldier of your esteem should keep their post.” Simcoe stepped forth, forcing the bag off your person followed by the jug in one arm. “You should not want to come with me, miss (Y/N)?” Hewlett suggested, unsettled by leaving any lady alone with a brute like Simcoe. Almost frightened you shook your head in response. He didn’t need to protect you from everything and everyone and perhaps a bit of you feared his wrath if you denied him. Simcoe had a way of things. “No… the captain will do. He is a gentleman.” You answered, looking to Simcoe. He stood as polite as ever, his eyes gazing at you with the lightest smile tugging at his cheeks. It was a cover for the sneer that would have surely covered his features if you denied him. Hewlett would dismiss himself in accordance to your wishes. 

It left you with Simcoe. It was delightfully quiet. You could hear the whistle of the chilled wind through the trees as you hurried down the road. Simcoe could easily keep up with you and even still, you felt his gaze boring in the back of your cloak. “If you walk so fast, I might just slip your goods,” Simcoe bit, emphasizing the threat with a pop of his lips. It was foolish to think you could escape him so quickly. A hard swallow and you paused, waiting for him to come to you. As he came to a stop behind you, Simcoe peeled the head of your cloak off in preference for curling a lock of your hair around his finger before he would abruptly jam his hand into your curls, urging your head back to meet his usually reserved blue eyes. They always had a crazed nature to them but at times they seemed restrained. Not now. You had never heard him raise a hand to a woman. “You are so apt to gush for him. He is but a pawn: a weak man at a weak station.” Simcoe whispers against your ear, letting his breath tickle your neck as he continued. Shorter than he, you arched onto your toes to avoid the tug on your locks of hair. “I rather converse with a pawn than the sort of man whom pursues married women.” You bit back to him, “If I wish a pawn for a husband, that should be to my discretion: not yours and certainly not father’s.” You furthered the statement, reaching your hands up to Simcoe’s wrist. You knew it was an empty threat: Hewlett expressed his feelings for Anna Strong. 

Simcoe's grip only seemed to tighten, holding you tightly in place. It was a joke. "You wouldn’t possibly marry such a man." Simcoe bit back. With his available hand sliding up the cobalt fabric of your dress, you quickly shoved his arm down to no avail. You could feel his hips against the curve of your ass. "I never implied I would become his wife. Though if such a notion disgusts you I would hope you would mature enough to choose Mrs. Strong or I." Simcoe's hand detached from your hair in favor of your chin, pulling your face to his. He knew what this was about now... "Of course. Why else would you seek Hewlett if not to encourage my affections? You aren't a vengeful. You plot as much as any would to a deemed unfaithful party." Simcoe mused, running his thumb over your plump lower lip. Your hands fell to Simcoe's upon your waist, dreading the sensation of a father’s hand upon his child. "Let me go Captain, if it's Anna you want it is Anna you should fin-" You further suggested, finding Simcoe's lips pressing against your own. He had a gentle air about him as he took control of the kiss, his hands slipping around your waist to flush you close. It was as if the world stopped: the stars above were the only observers of your union with Simcoe. When you finally pulled from him, Simcoe’s lips curled with a wicked smile pursuing the nervous, yet dazed look on your face. With another small kiss to your lower lip, Simcoe would go on. “You bear envy.”

Perhaps it was that he dared assume you should be the jealous one. Should you not have been? Even so, you shoved Simcoe’s chest to loosen the grip on your waist. “I think I might could if the father of my only child so easily moved along without so much as a glance behind!” You admitted, pressing upon his arms that wound tightly about your waist. Simcoe simply stared down at you. Evading punishment? Covered. Torturing and massacring others? He also had it. Impregnating a young girl however; that was the bit he found a lack of words for. In theory, it should have been easy to take you as a wife and settle with the child. However, he knew that there were others here whom disdained him. “Oh.” He countered, wrestling with the right reaction to the now evident bump. He debated any other possible fathers. There were none. By no way could Hewlett be the father. You and he had little interaction with one another. He weighed the nights he spent having snuck you into his room, filling your body time and time again with his seed. Those nights weren’t simply carnal lust. He knew he felt for you. Some days you could have asked him for the moon and he would likely debated finding something so ridiculous. Yet… there were no words that came to mind that day under the gleam of the moonlight.


	3. Chapter 3

The night progressed with little interaction between Simcoe and you. The two of you had made your way home silently after your admission that the baby was in fact there. Even goodbyes were curt and emotionless. The following days were again fraught with chores. Today, you were making your rounds to deliver dresses into town along with other family goods such as milk and eggs. During your brother's visit, you were less likely to be in town. You often felt sluggish but without Simcoe's claim over the child, you knew you would have to provide in some way. It was bound to be tedious. You had come and gone to Whitehall when your ears caught the clop of horses behind your ear. You quickly moved to the side, but to your shock, it's rider slid off only to pull you up on the horse. It didn't take but a minute for you to smell the blood on his body, though it was not his. "C-captain!" You stammered out, his hands tight around the swell in your stomach. 

Simcoe was thick with splattered blood on his uniform and handsome face. "Good day, (Y/N)." He softly chided, holding the reins tightly in his hands. It was a state of shock upon that horse. You wanted to get down from the horse. In fact you preferred walking or being alone with the animals themselves. "Captain please put me down..." You turned to Simcoe with your hand upon his chest. There were rounds to make around the millpond to those more hidden from view. His expression was stale as he urged the horse to move somewhat more quickly. "I'm afraid I cannot m'lady, we've been summoned to York City just last night." Simcoe explained. Looking down, you realized the horse was besettled with a few of Simcoe's personal items. You were jarred. Whom said you wanted to visit New York? Much less alone as an unmarried woman with a Captain. It would reflect badly on father. "My father does not know of this John. My brother was to come in today, I'm intended for home." Simcoe waved his hand in response, brushing off your protests. You wished to see your brother too. It had felt like ages since you had as he left Setauket. Simcoe seemed none the wiser to your wishes. "Nonsense. What qualm could he possibly have of a woman with the father of her child?" He said aloud. You winced looking behind to the Queen's Rangers riding aside him. Countless rangers veered their heads towards you. Everyone would have heard that! It wasn't to your pleasure that he had said it either. Even so, you knew your father would have encouraged you to go with the Captain. You fell silent. Perhaps you couldn't help a soft smile when his hand came upon your stomach, gently twiddling his fingers along the swell. 

The ride was long and tedious. York City was impossibly large. It was flooded with people living hectic lives: from those of the arts to the march of the military rattling its streets. You weren't used to the ruckus of so many people. Setauket was of modest size. Most bizarrely, Simcoe was bringing you to a meeting, at a home no less. John slid you down quickly, offering you his arm as you both approached the home. It was vastly beautiful. In comparison to the home you felt somewhat dull in such a plain pink dress that came over your bump. There were many beautiful people in York City. Yet there you were with your long hair up in a bonnet and a dress dirty from a hard day's work. As you took his arm, you frowned. Simcoe himself would attempt to clean up before if possible. He had. "Captain Simcoe... I look like one of those awful continental mutts." You pleaded with him. The dress had the smear of milk and mud from farm life. Simcoe glanced at you, "Nonsense. Simply take out that atrocious bun. I do confess I was never partial to it," He spoke. Your fingers worked the cap out of your hair. Bouncy curls wisped down your waist with frizz adding volume yet of course. Simcoe paused, rearranging the soft curls to cup your face before he knocked three times. The notion was attentive and soft. You were pleased enough. 

A lovely ebony woman answered the door to let you pass. She seemed overall rather emotionless though at times she cracked a concerned smile with her large chocolate eyes. "I'm here to see Major Andre," Simcoe said plainly. Abigail, you learned her name was in the past. She wasn't one to keep you company but instead trailed on while you sat near the opening while the Major and Simcoe spoke. It must have been an hour before Simcoe emerged with a man in the Queen's regalia. Alongside two handsome men, you knew your attire was outdated. "This is the woman I told you of, Major Andre, (Y/N)." Major Andre bowed at the waist, offering to take your hand in his. 

For customs sake, you slid your hand into his. He was awfully handsome. "I am enchanted to meet you, Miss. Have you conquered his wild-side or is it he who has captured yours?" Major Andre seemed to tease, motioning to your rounding belly with a kiss to your knuckles. "There is little I could do to calm that side of Simcoe, Major Andre. It's how many men are. Are you the same?" You gleamed a warm smile at Major Andre, unconsciously eluding to Simcoe's wild side with Anna and you alike. The Major wasn't sure what to make of it. Were you speaking of violence or of infidelity? "Less so than he. All men inevitably find a coolant to a violent flame... or a lustful one," The Major slid your hand from his after one last kiss. The notion you could appreciate. "I may look ratty myself but women can fight and lust over other men as well," You noted, finally looking over to see Simcoe gritting his teeth with the smallest of smiles. 

André cleared his throat. "Ratty? Is there something I could do for you?" He noted. He was often uncomfortable around Simcoe himself however he didn't believe you to be in the same boat as he. You were quick to shake your head. For you? No. "It's merely... York City is full of beautiful women. I can't help feel out of place in dirty cotton." You drew your head to the side. Glistening fabrics, lace, jewels and flowers were all common. You had none of those things but maybe a velvety collar around your neck. Usually people assume that was a mark of the poor. André seemed appalled by the notion of a mother so uncertain of herself. "Come with me," He set his hand along your mid back and escorted you up the stairs of his home. Simcoe would have followed if not for Andre ushering him to sit by the door. 

You were wary of being with yet another British officer alone; but yet again, you hadn't much a choice. Major André was a very kind man. He drew open a armoire, plucking out a few dresses and associated goods. "This ivory one will do beautifully." He drew it out, looking down upon the pink detailing you must have enjoyed on the dress you wore now. Whether these clothes lived to another man or a certain blonde woman, you found them preferable to the rags you wore moments before. Although the room was open, you would step behind a screen for privacy. You loved the soft ivory silk with delicate pastel pink touches from lace teasing your chestline to small bows from chest to behind your perky ass. You never had such lovely gems along your neck or fingers and certainly not hair pieces that seemed to accentuate your bouncy curls. Though you felt pretty disgusting pregnant, it was amazing what a change of clothes could do. André pulled away from placing the pin in your hair. "You look stunning." Andre slid a pair of glittering earrings into your ears. Andre offered his hand back down the stairs where Simcoe was. 

The stairs made you feel queasy. Would he like it? "Captain, here is your intended. I've properly spoiled her." André urged Simcoe up. Simcoe rose with his hat under his head, out stretching his hand to you. Once you took it Simcoe was quick to flush your body to his. "Thank you Major. I am quite indebted." Simcoe bit out. You could feel the irritation rising off of him. "Thank you André," you called back. Simcoe was quick to rush you out of the door into the chaos of York City life. His grip on your waist was painful. You made the move to mount his horse. Simcoe mounted along with you, his grip tight until you arrived at your intended residence: a home where the Queen's rangers had taken up. Simcoe handed the reins to an officer, climbing up the stairs with you in hand. His nails dug into your side. "John...?" you rasped as he slid you up into his arms. With each flight of the creaking dark wood stairs, you could sense the wheels to his mind were clicking as well. When you finally arrived to the large room, Simcoe forced you onto the soft white sheets of his bed. "Do you lust after him?" He was enraged... you knew he was when his lips crashed down onto yours. Simcoe took control of the kiss, pulling your hips to his. His tongue pressed into your mouth, pressing against your own. You pulled away for air when Simcoe rasped against your ear, "You are mine, you will always be." The words slipped of his lips in a most vile sense. You felt he only wanted you because André had taken you away. You turned your face from him, "I do not.." You shuddered. 

The bed creaked as Simcoe peeled your gown up your long legs, pulling off any undergarments in favour of pressing his tongue against your soft folds. The shock of the suddenness of it all sent shivers down your skin. His tongue made its way between your inner folds up until he found your clitoris. You never knew it had even existed until Simcoe. His tongue flickered against the little button. Your hands found themselves weaving through his hair. Sudden pressure filled you as John dove his fingers into your warmth, beckoning along the juices that began to fall down his fingers. It had been months since he last touched you, your warmth quivered around his fingers. He swirled them inside, pressing down into the sensitive bundles of nerves he could find. Time and time again you came down his fingers with your head having long since buried in pillows. "Ah... John please I can't." You pleaded, feeling his tongue pressing against your pussy to drink up the juices that oozed of your body. The quivers were testament to him doing his job. 

Finally Simcoe drew back, sitting upon his knees. "Take it off," He demanded, working the skirt to the ground while your nimble fingers did away with both corset and the top. When you finally found yourself bare against the sheets, you covered your swollen middle and breasts both. "Now, now lets not do that." Simcoe pushed away your hands, drawing his zipper down. He pulled his swollen cock from his pants, pulling you by an ankle to him. His cock dribbled with need. Of course you wanted to tend to it but as with everything Simcoe had a plan. His weathered hands stroked along his member. The motion became quicker and with it, Simcoe's hips buckled forth. "Agh..." His back curved and in moments his sweet seed coated your torso, dripping along the curve of your belly. 

Simcoe heaved to catch his breath, finding your toes stroking up his shaft when he came down. "A man spoils you and you wish me to think you don't have lust?" Simcoe sneered, but he had to admit looking down, the sight was deeply arousing. Your curled hair tussled around your naked body framed only by the bed's fluffy sheets. Glistening gems were symbolic of the other man, but easily erased by his cum oozing down your belly until you drew it into your mouth for a taste of his spunk. He knew you were addicted to him. Simcoe's cock hardened easily. You were yet still frustrated. "Come then, do it. You've stripped me down, don't think I don't know what for, Captain." You called to Simcoe. Simcoe leaned down to capture your lips for another kiss, lurching over you while lining his dick up with your warm entrance. His dick pressed forth, sliding into your channel with a soft squish. You arched up against him, his own cum smearing against the dark green of his uniform. "There it is," Simcoe arranged himself on all fours, using his elbows to keep your shoulders in place.

He was a terrible scooter after all, and at times, he would likely contort your body. Aptly, his hips made the swift and rough motion you knew him for. He swept deeply into your entrance, pressing as deep as he could with each thrust. Your hands found the fabric of his jacket, pressing your own hips up to his desperately. "Say you're mine," Simcoe rasped. It was all a show. Simcoe was making love to you in his uniform to show you to whom you belonged... to Captain John Graves Simcoe. When you didn't answer but a groan, Simcoe reached between your bodies to tease your lips. "Your body, your sentiments and the child. Everything you are belongs to me (Y/N)." Simcoe grit his teeth feeling your body clench him tightly. It was as if you aimed to milk him of his seed. The bed began to cream violently as his motions intensified. "I... always was Simcoe," You answered back to him. It was all to unnecessary. The answer made his thrusts quicken without pause. You dropped your head against his neck, crying out in response. "Captain please, please, you hardly gave me a moment before." Your legs quivered draped around his waist. Simcoe barely answered when you gushed down his hard cock with a most violent scream giving him the permission to cum. After one, two and three powerful thrusts, Simcoe hilted his cock deeply inside. His seed pumped into your body to the tune of his strained grunt. It was how he preferred sex... you had to quiver before he would dare cum. Pulling out, Simcoe stripped himself of his uniform. "Are you sated? You rasped, lips red with his abuse. Simcoe looked over your body. His cum slid down the bed sheets. It was hard to sate Simcoe, so he tore his eyes from your ravaged body lest he need more. Simcoe slid the sheets of the bed and urged you under. "For now, rest." Simcoe answered, bringing your head to his chest. As always, you were the first to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The following days offered little in the way of pleasure. You remained home while your dearest seemed to be out at an unholy hour of day. You couldn't have guessed where he was in fact: only that he was not with you. In a way, Simcoe was hot and cold. At times he heightened you to a pedestal of ownership while other times he expected you would be sitting pretty for him only. Today was another one of these experiences as you laid with your head in hand. Your newest lovely sack gown had been traded for a sheer white nightgown that seemed to follow close to your body and curves. The baby seemed to be growing well to Simcoe's pleasure. He often noted you were widening in the hips and your now round ass he so found pleasure in bouncing on his cock. Perhaps, he would say, it was a boy. Even so you knew that something was awry. Simcoe had been coming later and later. Yesterday, not at all. 

It was the gentle rasping that lifted your head from the soft feather filled pillows. Knock-knock-knock knock. It came again. You wondered if perhaps Simcoe lost his key. It was very much unlike him to do so, but you couldn't tell. You slid out of bed to pull the door apart. Standing there was a man you very much remembered. He was increasingly handsome as well. "Major André?" You moved to reach for a robe as he averted his eyes from your form. "Mrs. Simcoe," André grimaced. He looked unpleasantly drunk, depressed rather. As you drew the robe closed, you would pull him into the room with a light shut of the door. André looked down to the package in his arms. "You must excuse the hour, I... must confess it is very late. Is your husband home?" He questioned. You knit your brows before shaking your head as well. It was almost too hard to tell André he was mistaken. "Simcoe is not my husband, I've not yet seen him in two days." You weren't sure if explaining that you were not intended to marry was in your best interest. You offered him the chair at Simcoe's desk before pouring him some water, pressing it upon his drunken fingers. André grimaced in response, bringing the cold water to his lips. "I had hoped you would quell Simcoe's needs. Perhaps then the Queen's Rangers wouldn't stimulate the holy ground." André sighed. 

The holy ground? You couldn't imagine what that place could have been. André could tell by your features that you had knowledge of the ins and outs of Simcoe's behaviour. Then again, he struggled in Peggy's absence as well. Likely why he was drunk as a skunk while you urged water upon him to flush out the booze that could have been blood. André rolled his wrist in circles. "Home to murderers, burglars, bets and prostitutes abound. I heard, perhaps this was rumor, that he frequented a lady by the name of Lola in his spare time." His words ran your blood cold. Yet another woman to watch for? There was no watching for if it was true. If Simcoe was making love to this woman, she very well had her foot in the door. André sensed your discomfort. "She deals in mostly the norm, but she can get quite dominating. Perhaps that is why he would frequent her..." André dropped off, standing up to hold your clasped hands in his. It wasn't intimidation so much as it was rage. If it was not Anna, whom sought Abe herself, would it be this Lola? The tears began to well in your eyes when André tilted up your chin to look him in the eyes. 

The building reflected only few of the rangers had stayed in from their passions of lust or greed. "Enough about that, I came to see how you were faring in the ruckus of York City." André urged you on. Perhaps you could have been a lovely homemaker but his mind was set on his Peggy. You scanned your eyes along his handsome face. "Fair. I... stay in to care for the house most days. I suppose I don't believe I have anywhere to go," You lied. You could have visited the bookstore or perhaps the market. Lately, you felt you needed to sit in the green of a field but there was none of that in York City. André considered it, "The theatre is a lovely place where to lose yourself. One day perhaps you might accompany me." He admitted. André's gentleness reminded you of Hewlett though he was far more handsome and their passions ranged. 

Your hand came upon the swell that was the budding child. "Before the baby comes?" You suggested. One of Andre's large hands came to stroke across its expanse only once before he felt as though he was overstepping bounds. Of course, you were with child. "Most certainly." Andre returned. It was like a girl's most innocent day dream to go out and visit the places André would suggest. Even so, you felt depressed. For a minute you would roll your lip into your mouth. "If I was to write a letter to my brother, might you be able to slip it through to Setauket?" Your eyes averted to the hand on your belly. You hoped it was not overstepping your bounds by asking such a thing. André smiled warmly, "Of course. He has you locked away like a jewel in a tower." André chides. For a moment you thought if such a thing could be true. But you remembered this 'Lola,' and Mrs. Strong. It wasn't possible that he valued you that much. But could you escape York City? Never. Especially not with the Rangers. You moved to the desk in search of parchment and and ink. It took only a matter of moments before you handed off the letter to André with a soft curtsy. "There is nothing I could do to repay you Major," you spoke with your eyes to the floor. The Major could sense your displeasure for Simcoe, leaning in to kiss your cheek before the other. 

It was Simcoe's duty to make you feel effortlessly beautiful. Yet as priority three on his list, you hardly felt so lovely. The Major somehow helped lessen all of that. You perched up on your toes to press your lips to the Major's cheek when you heard the door clap open once again. Standing there was your love, glaring off into the open. "Major, this is quite the surprise." Simcoe held his hat between his fingertips. The Major knew he was caught. He parted from you with his composure shifting. "Ah Colonel, I bring your lovely bride a gift in your absence. Good night." The Major motioned toward a package that sat aside as he made his way to the door, brushing Simcoe aside on his way out. Simcoe waited much like a cat for the proper moment. It finally came moments later when Simcoe walked around the bed at a leisurely pace. "I wouldn't have expected he would visit you here at this ungodly hour. Much less that you would allow it." Simcoe said, setting his hat harshly down upon the writing desk. Looking over him, he seemed cool and collected. 

You backed yourself away from him, sliding the robe off of your figure. The nightgown left little to the imagination. "If you have something to say, my love, I would say it." You slid down to sit on the bed yourself. Simcoe came to you, his hands on your shoulders. "He should never have had your audience in private. That is two times now." Simcoe slipped around to you into a corner on the bed. Your hand stopped him rather than let him press forward. "Unlike your beloved Lola and conflicted Mrs. Strong, I have respect enough for myself to not bed someone while I'm quite taken up for another." Simcoe's features tightened. How did you learn of her? Yet he could smell the Major on you. Could you account for that? Simcoe knew the smell would drive him insane. He lifted your gowns to draw his fingers across you warm folds that were surprisingly dry. You bore a frown at him, pressing his hand away from your womanhood. The tears bit at your eyes when Simcoe mounted over you. "So you are." Simcoe hummed in response. There was a definite tension between the two of you until you spoke up, your heart thumping in your chest. 

"I would like to return to Setauket," The words spilled off your tongue before you were prepared. Simcoe looked at you as if you had said something asinine as he dropped his face down to yours. His lips seemed to tease yours as he spoke. "Now why would you ask that? You would have a bastard child and I would support it... not to mention public shame and whippings." He slid a hand through your soft curls. It sent chills down your spine. You knew the Magistrate would treat you justly! You knew! But you were scared: Woodhull knew Simcoe was the father. He acted in accordance with the law. He could see as much in your eyes: the worry, concern and dread. He twisted his head down to you. "Now, you will marry me and I will take ownership over the child. I am here to be a father and a lover. Let it be known that I will not let you run wild. Lady Lola is a whore at best. You are a lady." Simcoe warned and it was at that moment that you truly understood the fears you had were justified. If you married Simcoe; you would be his fully and completely as coverture dictated. But what was the alternative? Yes you had skills but were they enough to support a child and yourself? "If I say no?" You pressed. Simcoe leaned down to press his lips against yours to claim your lips with a sharp kiss. "You won't." He replied, easing his lips down against the curve of your neck. Your mind wandered to the letter you sent as Simcoe's fingers unlaced your corset. 

Ben, 

I'm sorry to have missed your message. My love John swept me away from Setauket and here I reside in York City. Until when I cannot say, I fear he will never let me go. It seems he's not the doting type I thought. One day we'll meet again. You'll have to suit up in uniform for me. 

Your loving little sister,   
(Y/N) Tallmadge. 


	5. Requested Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested Smut

Something had changed in him when he came back. Usually he was all too composed... but lately, he was almost animalistic in his approach to anything. The redheaded Captain had come to your door asking for your hand for an evening stroll. There was no reason to deny him the privilege. Though you found it odd to go out alone with the Captain, he seemed like a good man. Captain Simcoe certainly had a good line though he was beginning to become something of a brute. Simcoe was better than Major Hewlett as a husband, surely. Father wasn't a fan of Tories but... he could provide nicely for you. "Captain Simcoe..." you began, your gloved hand stroking up Simcoe's strong arm. It had traveled to his shoulder where it would stay for some time. "Are we really in a position to be out? You arrived not long after yesterday from those brutes," Simcoe's larger hand cupped yours over his in reassurance that yes, he was fine. Tonight was a night of walking along the mill pond. The stars had begun to glitter above while the water shifted with a chilled wind. While it was considered to be dangerous out at this time of day, there were reassurances that you would be fine. The wind was chill over the area, but it was Simcoe who kept you warm. 

The insinuation that he was too ill to take you out on a walk might as well have been an insult to his manhood. "Why of course lady (Y/N). I can't fathom what would make you think otherwise of me," Simcoe looked down upon you, sliding the head of your cloak off the top of your head. A few curls escaped the cap of your head as he rolled his fingers through a lock of hair. "They treated you cruelly. Should you not be resting?" You gave a sigh to him. Simcoe pulled his hand of your hair before he looked down with a reserved grin to a small squirrel scampering up a tree. Ever waiting for a fight, that was. "It is war, my lady. Do you expect them to kiss the toes of my boots?" He chided at you. You didn't expect that it was going to be all peaches and cream, but still, they had nearly killed him! 

You stopped him near a large tree, pushing him up against it sharply. The back of his uniform scraped as you moved up against him. Although he allowed it, his blue eyes fell to your breasts against his chest. "I would suggest not testing test my patience, (Y/N). I am a gentleman, but I am a man with limits." His eyes trickled down to the sight of your soft flesh peeking out of what was meant to be a reserved light pink dress. The soft white lace framed the cleavage that was testing him so. His blue eyes averted upwards to your own, hazed, but patient. He had no wish to treat you like he might prostitutes of course. You were paying him no mind. Your hand reached up to grasp the back of his neck in order to drag him to your level. As your plump lips met his slender ones, you heard the low rumble of his throat in warning. Pay it no mind, you thought. Moments passed before Simcoe shoved you back. "You lust for me this much? I would have thought a maiden to be patient for my recovery." Simcoe hummed as he hovered over you. In all truth you should have been. But you weren't. 

"I should be so patient. If I feel as if I can wait no longer. Love is a medicine." You teased his cravat. Simcoe looked down upon you with unintelligible emotion writ across his face. His tongue teased his upper lip, cock eager in his slacks for a little love as he might have called it. You felt it pulsing against your clothes. Moments later, you dropped down to your knees, working his pants away in search of his swollen member. Once you found it, your tongue slid along the underside of his cock, tracing patterns of veins to his pink tip where you would press him fully in your mouth. Simcoe's hazed eyes followed the movement of your lips suckling him in. He could feel your tongue swirling around his shaft as you plunged him deeply inside, time and time again. He felt the pressure welling up quickly in his aching body. Your plump lips looked like a beautiful wrapping paper around a gift. As he watched, he realized the saliva dripping down your lips ran down your breasts. Simcoe silently slipped both breasts of your dress, urging you up to ease his weeping cock between them. Your hands fell close to press your breasts together around him. Simcoe shuddered, moving more forcefully between your breasts. You turned your face down to flick your tongue along the slit as he pushed forward. You worked your breasts around him in smooth waves around his cock. From the way he moved, you knew it would only be moments. Minutes later, Simcoe pressed his hand against your forehead to spill his seed along your face. He would smear himself along cheeks down your nose to your lips. 

"What a pretty face," Simcoe huffed, helping you back up onto two feet. The compliment was rare. You often believed his passion for pursuing you was a compliment in itself. You smiled, leaning up to press your lips to his for a passionate kiss. Simcoe held you tightly once more, leaning down to lift the fabric of your dress up those silky legs. It seemed like a sin to cover them. One Simcoe wasn't fond of as he pressed your back against the trunk. His lips moved along your neck, trailing soft kisses along while his fingers took to drifting below the fabric of your skirts. He cupped your sex in his hand, pushing his middle finger into your warm entrance as he found you moist. Your inner walls clenched his finger. Simcoe took his place between your legs, drifting back up to catch your lips. You met his kiss back with hazy eyes. "John..." You buckled forth as he took your breast into his mouth for a wet suckle. His erection tickled your bare legs. He hummed back to you, popping your nipple of his lips while massaging your breast. "John please... I'll get pregnant," You begged of him, holding his shoulders while he moved to the other breast. 

Simcoe pulled from your breasts, moving his finger out of your warmth to massage your lips. "I am more than able to assume responsibility." He chides, easing a finger up against that sensitive bud of nerves. Somehow you always fell weak to him. Condoms always seemed to be an expense you both skipped out on in favour of either pulling out or hoping for a better outcome. They were immoral to father, though you expected this wasn't exactly the situation he had in mind. "Johnnn..." You rasped again, winding your arms around his neck to keep yourself propped up as a powerful orgasm careened through your body. It pleased him when you squealed Simcoe chuckled warmly, "I don't see what all the fuss is about." He admits, now pressing his eager tip against your clit. 

"A child out of wedlock is what it is about," You return. Simcoe spun you around to all fours, pulling away fabric to find your round bubble butt. After so many hours of torture, he felt himself entitled to some fun with you. His hand pressed your back down as he molded your round ass in his hands. "You could easily be my wife," Simcoe pressed on, urging his dick into your warm channel with little effort. The sweet clench was all he worried he wouldn't feel again. He had been the one to deflower you. Simcoe rested his hand on your hips. To his pleasure, you mashed your hips back onto his cock. It seemed he pleased you enough with his answer by the way you rid his dick. His hips began to thrust in motion with your movements. You gripped the blades of grass underneath you while John moved. You could feel just so much of him. His member forcing its way through your body, teasing up to your cervix when he fully hilted. Simcoe's nails dug into your meaty hips, drawing blood. You squeezed him as tight as you could to keep him close. John knew you were too. His motions buckled with a ragged groan, as he hung over you. 

"You're so tight (Y/N)." John rasped behind you. It had been too long since he claimed you last. His hips buckled, beginning to pound into your sweet wet channel faster and harder. "Ah John! Don't be so rough," You grit your teeth together, gasping when he seemed to prod his cock around. You knew what those precise movements wanted. He wanted to see you beg. As his dick grazed over bundles of nerves you gasped in anticipation. Your legs shivered every time he buried his cock into your folds. "Let's hear it," John whispered, looming over you. A precise thrust came slamming against your g-spot. You shrieked, "John I can't!" Even with each subsequent thrust wailing on it, you couldn't make out a thing. Your eyes had screwed shut. His name echoed like a holy chant on your lips and in seconds, you gushed down his cock. The orgasm was intense and while you focused on yours, Simcoe was brought to his with your muscles spazzing and milking him of his thick seed. Oh he would have pulled out but a clench like that was to good to. It would have been a sin. Simcoe instead flushed himself fully inside of your sopping wet cunt, his dick kissing the entrance of your womb as he came in thick spurts to coat down your tight channel. As he rid out his orgasm, you rode out yours while rocking your hips back onto him. "Come here," You gasped while pulling Simcoe's cravat forward to press your lips against his. He grunted against you, "I ought run you home." Simcoe whispered. "I think it would be more pressing to take you to my room, wouldn't it?" Simcoe nearly invited. It was as close to one as you would get. You stole another kiss of his lips, biting his lower lip momentarily. It was all the answer he ever needed to know what he would be doing all night. Soiling others was always his favourite past time, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Written on my phone, forgive me if it seems a bit short. I welcome commentary!


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